Stupid, Perfect Loser
by T.R. Hawthorne
Summary: Max is living a semi-normal life seven years after Fang left. Itex has not bothered her. What happens when Fang returns and more problems come with him? What will become of our heroine, Maximum Ride?
1. Prolouge

**Disclaimer: Don't own SNL or any of its skits, James Patterson owns Maximum Ride and all the wonderful bird kids, and I own Sierra and any other OCs. I recommend watching SNL sometime. It's good for the soul.**

Hey, how's it going world? Good? Well, isn't that special. Yes, I stole that from the Church Lady on SNL. What can I say? The line was a keeper. Saturday Night Live was Gazzy's favorite show. Say one word about it being TV 14 and how I shouldn't have let him watch that inappropriate crap and I'll punch the life out of you. Harsh? Maybe. But I honestly could care less about what you guys think right about now.

The name's Maximum Ride. I'm an avian/human hybrid. I'm probably the first bird kid you've ever met. And I'll probably be the last. What's this I hear?

"Where'd Iggy go?" say all you who love my blind best friend.

"Where's the part human stink bomb?" ask all those who can't get enough of his smell.

"What happened to Nudge?" question the fashionista fans.

"Did Angel finally leave you to form her own flock?" the smarter fans of my flock and me ask.

"Fang never came back?" scream all you crazy fan girls (or should I say Fangirls).

Here are the answers in order:

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Yes, then her "flock" turned on her. Dead.

And, no. He never did. And odds are he's gone like all the rest of them.

This leaves me to fend for myself. It's not too hard. I've had a lot of practice keeping my flock alive for as long as humanly possible, so taking care of me, myself, and I is a piece of cake. Oh, wait; you still have one more question? Shoot.

"What about Dylan?" you wonder aloud.

You want to know what happened to Dylan? He's here. With me. Sometimes. He has sort of given up on life, though, so he might as well not be here at all. Yes, he's still madly in love with me. He just doesn't try so hard any more. Actually, he doesn't try. Period. Dylan knows I'll never love him like that. He has grown on me quite a bit over the years, though. And I do think of him as a brother. Especially because he's the only one I have left…

But my heart belongs to that ass hole that left me about seven years ago. Which totally sucks balls. I know, I know. It's lame to be twenty-two and you have only had one serious boyfriend your whole life. I've tried to move on! I swear! I go to clubs every night and party like there's no tomorrow! Okay, maybe not every night. Whenever I feel like I can handle my extreme case of claustrophobia. But you get my point, right? I really have tried, but not a single guy in the world could make me forget about Fang. That stupid, perfect loser.

Here's some more background information before my story begins. You know. Little change of subject.

I live in an apartment in downtown Like-I'd-Actually-Tell-You-Where-I-Live with Dylan, the brother that looks like he belongs on a Calvin Klein runway and who spends his "allowance" on a big old bottle of tequila every weekend (technically speaking, he's only seven, and therefore not allowed to drink by law. But what do you think the cops would say if I came up to them one day and said, "This is my little brother. He's seven. Tell him he can't drink or arrest him or something!" They would probably laugh at me and then throw me in a mental institution.) I'm currently employed at the nearby local bookstore. Hey, when you have so much free time and you aren't running from people who want you dead or for experimentation (which is probably worse), books can actually be enjoyable. Who knew?

I'm becoming more social. People can stand loneliness only for a short amount of time. It gets… well, yeah, lonely. My best friend, Sierra, works at the bookstore with me and is super pretty/popular/gets any guy she wants. Yes, not the kind of person I saw myself being all buddy buddy with seven years ago, but appearances can be misleading. Her parents died in a double homicide while she was at a friend's house at the age of nine. She bounced between foster families until she was a legal adult and could finally live on her own. From the pictures she's shown me, I can tell she is the spitting image of her mother with her light brown hair and gorgeous green eyes. She's got a killer thousand watt smile and is the perfect height and weight, not too tall or too short, too chubby or skinny. One of the only things that stayed constant in her life was books, hence the job. I have other friends too, like Joshua, Brittany, and Caleb, but honestly, I don't trust any of them except Sierra.

As you can imagine it takes a lot to earn my trust. Sierra has definitely earned it. She has nothing to hide and after being her friend for three years, I've decided to share my secrets with her, too. Okay, maybe not all secrets, but most. She's met Dylan, and she surprisingly doesn't take much interest in him.

"He's a sexy beast, no doubt about that, but there isn't much to him besides his looks. And even those will be gone pretty soon if you don't get him away from that bottle," Sierra told me one day.

She knows about my "siblings" and that all except Dylan have passed. Even about Fang, or should I say "Nick." But not the wings. Never the wings.

I go flying every now and then, if I have time. I drive out to the country. I will not tell you the landscaping though, as my location needs to remain secret. There is nothing better than the feeling when wings meet the rush of the wind. I just wish I had a sober person to share it with.

So that's the basics, I guess.

Now to tell you about this story. My story.

This is the story of the stupid perfect loser whom I can't live with or without and how he decided to come back in my life for no apparent reason whatsoever. This is the story of how he tore out my heart and stomped all over it. Again. This is a story about reliving the past, even the parts I really don't want to relive. This is a story about making my past mix with my future.

And about making the biggest decision ever: life or death?


	2. The Club

**Disclaimer: Don't own Maximum Ride, that's JP. Can someone PM me and tell me if I have to put one of these on every chapter? Please and thank you.**

"I can't wait to hit the clubs tonight," Sierra was telling me. We were taking our lunch break so we walked down the street to the closest fast food joint.

"Same. I've been feeling super-stressed out ever since my classes started again." I had begun online college courses. I could never survive on an actual campus. Way too many people.

"Yeah, I kind of noticed, Miss Twitchy. You jump at the sound of your name."

"I can believe that. Most smart people already jump at the mere mentioning of the great Maximum Ride."

Sierra laughed it off while I smiled at my private joke. The Lord knows Jeb would be frightened if he ever heard those words uttered in front of him._ Maximum Ride._ I could almost see him quivering in fear right then.

"I think our first stop should be that new karaoke slash dance club place downtown. Can't remember the name…"

"I think it's something stupid, like _Hollywood _or_ L.A. Nights_," I answered. What was with the sudden interest in karaoke? Unless…

"Oh, and Joshua's the new manager! I bet we could get a couple discounts, if you know what I mean," she said. Of course Joshua was involved. Everybody thought they were going out, but they never made it official.

"And by discounts I'm guessing you mean he's going to pay for us to get in because he asked you out on a little group date that I just so happen to be going to."

"Yup, that sounds about right."

We made it to our destination where I gladly filled my stomach with three juicy burgers. After I was satiated and Sierra had picked at her food "… because that fast food stuff is just inhumane…" we headed back to the shop to finish our work day. It blew by pretty quickly without a single customer the rest of the day, so we locked up a little early to get ready for tonight. Once I got into Sierra's apartment it was time to play my least favorite game in the world: dress up.

"Max, come on, you have to try on my silver dress, I'm sure it would look fabulous on you! And I know we're the same size, so don't you even try to say it's too big!" Sierra yelled from the bathroom where she was coating her face with makeup.

"Actually it looks a bit snug," I called back.

"It's supposed to be that tight! Jeez, Max, you should get out a little more often."

I sighed, held my breath, and squeezed myself into the skimpy piece of fabric my friend called a dress. Sierra walked out of the bathroom, donning a black halter dress that went down to just past her waist, her hair in perfect ringlets surrounding her beautiful face. She looked like a super model, but one look at me and her jaw dropped.

"Wow, Max. And you don't even have your makeup on yet. I have to say, I am very impressed. That dress looks ten times better on you than it did me. If you excuse me, I think I'm going to go change, I shall have no one upstaging me tonight!"

I started cracking up, laughing until my sides hurt. "Sierra, are you kidding me? You look like better than the runway model that dress probably came off of two days ago."

"Really? Aw, thanks! If that is so, then you should hurry up, it's about time to leave."

"Oh, so we have time for you to get redressed and reprettified, but when it comes to me just dabbing on a little liner, eye shadow, and gloss, we're already ten minutes late?"

"Exactly! Now get your butt moving!"

At the club we sat down with some friends and talked for all of twenty seconds before Sierra and Joshua were on the dance floor and Brittany and Caleb were already so wasted they were on a stage singing _"Don't Stop Believing"_ like they were on American Idol. I, being the more sensible person that I am, stayed in the booth and sipped my Pepsi. I didn't feel like drinking (Dylan had a small incident the other night and it, of course, involved alcohol.) Every now and then I guy would come up to me and try to make his move, but they rarely succeeded seeing as most of them were drunk, trying to get back at an ex who showed up unexpectedly, or just complete idiots. There was one guy that night that seemed halfway decent, though, so I accepted his invitation and got on the dance floor with him.

"So, what's your name, beautiful?" he asked loudly, trying to be heard over the booming music.

"Max. What about you?"

"David."

Hmm. David wasn't only halfway decent, but also not half bad looking either.

"You know, David, you are the first guy I've met tonight who doesn't reek of desperation."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked timidly.

"It's a great thing," I replied with a smile.

We danced for a couple songs while I examined him. David had chocolate brown hair and sparkly blue eyes. He was only an inch, at the most, taller than me. He was kind of skinny, but I was used to that physique. Tall and thin was the most common description for my people and me. _Sigh_, if only there were more of us left. David and I finally got tired and returned to my booth. After talking to him for about half an hour I realized he was a nice guy, but not exactly the type of guy I usually go for. Maybe different was good, though.

"It's getting late. I think I should go home. Would it be okay if I called you sometime in the near future?" David questioned with a hopeful look in his eye.

"I think it would be very okay," I grinned.

We exchanged numbers and then he was on his way.

The gang kept on partying. I was once again left alone to my booth. I scanned the hangout for my group so I could tell them I was tired and was going to head on home. None of them were in my line of sight, though, so I got up to search for them. Unfortunately I tried to fight through the crowd of dancers and ended up being pushed to the back corner of the joint. I turned around and saw a couple of shy guys and gals, trying to scramble up the courage to go out and dance. A girl with frizzy blonde hair, a poor dude with really bad acne, a dark loner sitting at the only table looking right at me as if staring into my soul…

Wait. Huh? I did a double take and found the table to be unoccupied.

Yeah. I definitely needed some sleep.

I went back on my hunt for my friends and found the most sober one, Joshua, and told him I was leaving and that I didn't need a ride, my house was only a few blocks away. He slurred what I think was a goodbye, and went right on fist pumping.

So I was on my way home, a defenseless young girl without a care in the world, most likely drunk to the public, for I just came out of a club. What could possibly go wrong? You know, besides some creeper grabbing me and dragging my dead weight to an alley.

You guys know that way back when I would've opened a can of whoop ass on him and flown away. Can't do that now. It would ruin all that I have worked to build, this life that is safe for Dylan and me. If anyone saw me flying away, Itex would be right behind me once again. Not going to let that happen, that's for sure.

"Hey, Max," the originally half way decent guy said.

"David? What the hell are you doing?"

He pulled out a knife and whispered,"Don't try any funny stuff, or your pretty face won't be so pretty any more. Just follow me into the street and get into the van with me."

I shut up, but I couldn't stop some tears from falling down my cheeks. Of course only I would end up crushing on a psychopath that would end up trying to kidnap me.

"Maxie, I said be quiet. You're not off to a very good start are you?"

"Leave her alone," a voice from farther in the alley rang, deathly serious and as chilled as the night air.

"Who's there?" David asked. "Come after me, and I'll kill her!" he threatened.

"I'll give you three seconds to drop the girl. One…"

And then the mysterious man dropped down on David from above, tackling me as well in the process. Once he freed me he looked into my eyes and said, "Run, Max. There's a black convertible parked outside the club. Climb in the passenger's seat. I'll meet you there."

I only ever knew a small handful of people who could talk and kick some butt at the same time, and all but two were dead. One of them was probably drinking a liter of vodka on my couch. The other was obviously saving my life.


	3. A Lengthy Ride Home

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of the sort unless you've never heard of it before and it doesn't come up on a search of the Google variety.**

**Apology: I know. It has been a ridiculous amount of time since I last updated. I am truly sorry. I am using a new computer as of now because my laptop and Word are still not agreeing with each other, and I have officially given up hope that it will get better any time soon. I promise you right here and now that I will update at least every other week.**

**Sincerely,**

**T. R. H.**

Being the stubborn person I am, I did not go to his car, like he asked me to. You know why? Because 1.) He didn't say please and 2.) I don't take directions from lying, backstabbing exes. Perfectly reasonable explanations, am I right?

"I'm not in the mood for being kidnapped a second time tonight," I said snidely.

"And I'm not in the mood for arguing while trying to find a place for this guy to wake up in," the king of all idiots retorted, holding the unconscious creep in his arms. "Did he have a car or something?"

I turned around, walked toward the van I was previously being forced into, and kicked the passenger door, making a nice big dent. I think he got the message. After he laid David down next to the damaged vehicle, he grabbed my arm and guided me toward his car.

"Hey, let go of me! I don't want to get in that car! Help! Police! This man is touching me! Rape! Fire! Timmy is stuck in the well!" I screamed like that, hoping a pedestrian would take pity on me and call 911 on Fang's ass, but instead I think I just came off as majorly drunk.

Once he got me in his passenger seat I gave up and crossed my arms. It was going to be a _long_ ride home. Fang hopped into the driver's seat and started the car, backing out carefully and turning onto the road. And then silence… Unbearable silence… Unbearable silence that would not be filled by the mute sitting next to me.

"Okay. I'm going to state the obvious. It's only been seven years, dipstick."

Nothing.

"You came here. Start talking or something! How the hell did you know where I was?"

"I didn't," he answered quietly.

…

"Is that it? That's all you have to say?" I asked. Really? Our reunion after seven years, and all he had to say was that he didn't know I'd be here. No flowers? Doves? Choirs of angels? Well, wasn't that freaking perfect.

"Okay then. I guess I'll turn up the tunes since it doesn't sound like you'll be joining the conversation any time soon," I said, reaching for the volume dial to turn up the music.

_And I will always love you. I will always love you._

"I never was I big Whitney Houston fan." Change station…

_I just need somebody to love. I don't need too much, just somebody to love._

"Justin Bieber is way overrated," I awkwardly said. Was that a smirk on Mr. Perfect's face?

_Let's have some fun, this beat is sick._

Hmm, harmless…

_I wanna take a ride on your disco stick._

"Okay, that is enough!" I yelled while turning the infernal device down. Even though the volume was off, I could still here music. I looked around the car for a phone or an MP3 player. Then I found the source. Fang._ He was laughing. _Anyone who is reading this, forget that I just called Fang's laughter music. Please and thank you.

"What's so funny Mr. Big Shot?" I was glaring and if I could, I would've shot lasers form my eyes. I don't think it had the desired effect.

"You. You haven't changed much. I'm glad," he said, flashing me a thousand watt smile.

"I've changed in more ways than you could possibly imagine."

"Oh, I can imagine," he replied while eyeing me in the strapless mini I borrowed from Sierra.

"If you weren't driving, I would slap the shit out of you, you sexist pig."

"Yeah. I know," he said, most likely to prove his point that I haven't changed. I huffed and started searching for something to focus on out my window. Hmm, stars would have to do.

"So," Fang (miraculously) said, "Where do you live? I am taking you home after all."

I reluctantly told him my address and we were on our way.

There was lots of silence, which was to be expected. Then I heard Fang say something he was obviously working up the nerve to say.

"I missed you." He said it so softly I didn't know if I actually heard it or not. Then he spoke up just a wee bit louder. "Maximum Ride, I've never stopped loving you," my heart started speeding up right about there, "and I just need to know if there is even the smallest shred of hope that we will be together again. Please. I need to know. It's been tearing me apart since the day I left."

That's when I snapped. "You chose to leave! You think it's been tearing you apart? All these years, I thought you left me because I wasn't good enough, there was someone else, or you just stopped loving me! Those were the only explanations that made any sense! They sure as hell make a lot more sense than your sorry excuse! How could leaving us be good for anyone? The first week, I had a nervous breakdown and locked myself in my room without food or water. In that period of time, Nudge had a similar, but less severe breakdown and Iggy became fully dependent on Gazzy for male bonding, which was traumatizing for Gasser because, let's face it, Iggy was a pervert! Gazzy almost ran away to get away from all the talk about how Iggy wanted to get inside my sister's pants someday! Oh, and Angel moved out at the ripe old age of seven to form her own flock. Does that sound like your absence benefited us? So my answer would have to be a gross, pathetic yes, because in all honesty, if you leave again I just might go over the edge. If it wasn't for my stupid feelings, I would've done the smart thing and just walked away when you told me to get in the very car we are now sitting in!"

I let in jagged breaths of air until my breathing turned normal once again. Just as I was about to open my mouth to rip on him some more, he said the words that just might have redeemed himself if this were about, oh, I don't know, stealing a candy bar from me, or dissing a chocolate chip cookie.

"I'm so sorry." Apology _not _accepted. "I didn't know… You have to understand, I thought I was saving your lives. You would've done the same thing in my position. I know you would have. Because you loved me… You loved us. And you would do anything for us. Anything."

Would I have had the guts to leave him if it meant his safety? It would've hurt like nails being driven through my heart and soul, but yeah, I think I would have done it. Damn him and his logic.

I don't like being proved wrong, so I gave him the silent treatment as punishment, but as you probably guessed, he was pretty good at that game. Ugh. So antisocial.

I was about to break and just talk to him when we pulled up into the apartment complex's parking lot.

"So… where are you staying?" I asked, with a little too much steel to make me sound concerned. I smirked at the thought.

"Cave on the outskirts of town. Where else?" He said, chuckling about his temporary home. The flock always stayed in caves way back when.

"You can stay at my place," I blurted out. I mentally cursed myself for saying such bull.

_Maybe this is what you need. A night with the man of your past, your dreams, your nightmares. This is fate at its finest, Max._

I shrieked while unbuckling my seat belt, jumping slightly. It couldn't be…

_Hey, Max. It's been far too long._

It was.

My Voice.

I hadn't heard it in seven years.

"What's wrong?" he said with actual concern.

"Nothing. You just brought about the two things in the world that majorly separate me from the rest of the world. Apparently seven years is the limit on normalcy for me."

"And what would those be?" Fang said with a slight smile.

"A loser ex with wings and a voice that's not my own inside my head."

He paused, thinking over how to respond."I disagree. You have quite a lot in common with schizophrenics. They probably have exes with wings. You know. At least they think they do. Oh, and then there's the voice, so maybe I should just dump you into a mental institution. The rooms are cozy. Nice and padded." Wrong answer, jerk.

"Do you want to sleep in the cave?"

"No thank you."

"Then I suggest you shut the hell up." That did the trick. Of course, when it came to my questionable sanity he turned into Nudge. Once again, how freaking perfect. This was going to be a longer night than I originally thought.


	4. Uncomfortable Circumstances

**Disclaimer for the rest of the story: Maximum Ride = not mine**

As I walked up the porch steps that night, something disastrous came to mind. Fang probably wouldn't be too fond of my roommate. And Dylan probably wouldn't be too fond of Fang. What to do? What can I say? "Oh, silly me I forgot to tell you that the bane of your existence is asleep in this apartment I live in, so if you could just keep it down that would be great," didn't seem like a very good idea. So I went with the "Surprise! Your mortal enemy lives with me!" method. This also sucked as far as ideas went, but I was panicky, so don't judge!

"What's wrong?" Fang asked, sensing my anxiety. He probably saw me shaking. That would've given my nervousness away.

"N-nothing," I whispered, stuttering way too obviously. I fumbled with the keys while he stared me down with his dark as night eyes that sent more shivers down my spine.

Click.

The door unlocked.

Did I dare turn on the lights? What if Dylan was asleep on the couch instead of his room? I silently prayed that he somehow wandered out of the house and is now asleep on a street corner. As long as he was not here, I would be happy.

But that would be too easy, wouldn't it?

As I flicked on the lights I saw Fang stiffen out of the corner of my eye. Sure enough, there Dylan was. On the couch. And what do you know? He woke up when I turned on the lights.

Their eyes immediately locked in a heated stare down. "What the hell is he doing here?" Dylan asked while Fang grabbed his head and started pacing while muttering something that sounded faintly like "Oh, dear God no, this cannot be happening."

"So. Now that everyone is up, who wants coffee?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Max, can I speak with you in the other room. Like _now_," Dylan asked at the same time in a very not nonchalant tone. I looked to Fang.

"Please, stay, I'll explain after this," I whispered to him. He nodded, and most people would've thought that he could care less if I came back. But I saw it in his eyes, even after seven years of being apart. Fang was hurt. More so than I have ever seen him.

Reluctantly, I walked away, wondering if he really would stay. Why should I care if he stayed? In all honesty, I didn't know then, and I don't know now.

Dylan dragged me into his bedroom and sat me down on the edge of his bed. He bent down a little to look in my eyes and said, "Explain," in a voice that was a little too steely for comfort.

I told him the whole story, how he pretty much saved my life outside the club and the drive home and how I offered him a place to stay. Dylan seemed to be taking it pretty well. Until I was done, and it was his turn to talk, that is.

"Max," Dylan said his tone even and no nonsense, "I want him out. Now."

I was shocked. I don't think I ever saw Dylan as angry as he was at that moment. It really didn't work in his favor because all he accomplished with his attitude was pissing me off. "I don't believe that's your decision to make. I pay the rent for this place; therefore, I get to choose who stays in it! Got it?"

"Max, you aren't a flock leader anymore!" he yelled. He took a couple deep breaths then continued more calmly than before. "You haven't been for a long time! You can't just boss me around like I'm some little kid! You need to understand that I have boundaries, just like anyone else, and you are majorly crossing them by letting that heaping pile of crapola stay here. I'm not just doing this for me, though. I'm going to say it once and I'm not going to say it again. You. Will. Get. Hurt. He hasn't changed. He will leave again. And when he does, I don't know how many pieces he'll leave you in. All I know is you won't be Max. You will be like me. A gross, pathetic shell of the person you once were."

Wow. "Dylan, wait," I said, but he was already storming out the door. Crap. I ran after him, which was a waste because he had stopped at the door and was glaring daggers at Fang. I skidded to a halt, watching the avian American battle ensue.

"You will pay for hurting her." That's all he said. And then he was gone to I don't know where.

As the door slammed shut Fang looked up at me with sad eyes. "So. You and Dylan," he swallowed a lump in his throat, "live together."

"It's not what you think. He's not my boyfriend or anything like that," I said, feeling my face flush with crimson. I sat on the couch and Fang sat next to me, keeping his distance. "He's like a brother. He just keeps me company. I hate living on my own and he needs me to support him. Nothing more than that."

"You could've chosen a little better. Like Nudge would have been an appropriate roommate. Iggy would've been better than Dylan. You had other options. So I don't see how it couldn't have been romantic, at least at some point," he responded accusingly.

Oh, God. He didn't know. Tears sprung up in my eyes.

"It's okay, I understand if you and Dylan had something, I just need to know if that something is still going on," he said while inching closer to rub my back on that spot between my wings. The same one he used to rub when we were younger. I leaned over and sobbed into his chest.

"There's nothing between us! I told you the truth!" I gasped for air between words. Ugh. I hate feeling so helpless.

Fang looked confused. He knew that it took quite a lot for me to cry. "Then what's wrong?" he asked softly.

"They're. They. The flock. They're," I stumbled over the words repeatedly, trying to find the right words.

"They're what?" he asked gently to coax some words out of me.

I put my chin on his shoulder, and I whispered the word, my lips brushing his ear.

"Dead."


	5. Talking About Death Tires You Out

Fang, still as a statue, disappeared before my eyes.

"Huh?" I said. He reappeared when he turned his head to look at me. Oh, yeah. That "blend into surroundings when still, which is all the time" thing.

"Sorry, you momentarily disappeared," I explained with tears streaming down my face. I imagine it was a weird combination, crazy logic and crying.

"They're gone?" he asked, his face as blank as ever. I nodded my head slightly.

"Are you sure?" It sounded like he was hoping that I was only half way sure. Right then, I wanted to be.

"I watched some of them die," I replied shakily. "Nudge expired first, about a year after you left us. We buried her in a cemetery in Arizona, where we thought her mom was. Gazzy was kidnapped two years after that. He was taken to the School. Ig, Dylan, and I tried to get him back, but we just… couldn't. Not with just the three of us. We found his body a couple weeks later in what we suspect to be the School's trash bin," my body was being racked with sobs, "and then I heard some news about Angel. Even though she was a traitor in the end, she was still_ my Angel._ Fang, I never realized how much she was like my own child until I ran into her flock one day, years after she left, and found out they all mutinied. They left her somewhere in Africa to die." My fists clenched. The image of Angel in the deserts of Africa without food or water popped into my head for the trillionth time since then. I got a hold of myself and spoke again, my voice more controlled. "Let's just say I handled her flock how I saw fit."

"And Iggy?"

Iggy. The waterworks came on again.

"Shh," Fang whispered to me while rubbing the spot between my wings.

I tried to gain composure and told Fang the tragic story of my feathered friend's life and death. "Iggy… well. What to say? He and, umm, my sister, they, umm…"

_Breathe, Max, breathe!_

I exhaled loudly. _Thank you, Voice._

"He got her pregnant," I muttered.

"What?" Fang said in that way that sounded uninterested, but really his mind was blown.

"You heard me. It was only two years ago. He was twenty and she was nineteen, I think, and it just sort of… happened, I guess. We were so happy. I was going to be the Godmother," I remembered with a smile. "A coworker was driving Iggy home. His cell phone rang. Ella had gone into labor. Of course, he asked his friend to take him to the hospital instead. On the way there, though, they… they crashed. They were hit by a drunk driver doing some serious speeding. Both drivers died, like, instantaneously. But Iggy was taken to the hospital. Can you imagine how it felt to take my sister to that same hospital to have her baby, being asked by the nurse who the father was, and then being told by said nurse that he was checked onto the ER just moments ago? I told Ella I'd be right back and sprinted to find his room. When I got there Iggy was surprisingly awake, but in less than stable condition. He kept mumbling, 'I'm going to be a dad. My baby's being born. Can I please go? I need to meet her.' I asked the doctor if he'd be okay, and he gave it to me straight. Iggy wasn't going to make it."

"Wait," Fang interrupted, "did the doc notice his… wings?"

"Yeah, probably, but he never brought it up. He was trying too hard to keep Ig alive to really care, I guess."

"Some humans aren't all bad," he said solemnly.

I nodded and continued. "So I asked if there was any possibility he could see his baby girl before he… passed. Doc gave me a sad smile and told me he'd work something out. So as soon as that umbilical cord was cut, before Ella even got to hold her daughter, a special arrangement was made so that Iggy could see her. Little Alexa was sent to Iggy's room. And I swear right then and there, Iggy could _see_ her. I mean I know it's impossible, but the look on his face when she came into the room… he was like glowing. He died, not a minute after she entered the room." Oh Iggy. I missed him. A lot. He was my best friend for so long.

"So what happened to Ella and Alexa?" Fang's voice broke through train of thought.

Ugh. More tears. More sobbing. More of me being a total wuss. I finally got the nerve to talk some more. "Alexa died a couple hours after she was born. She was really premature. I drove Ella home the next day. She was a mess. I stayed until I thought she could take care of herself, and then I took off. Got a call a later that night. Ella committed suicide." I drew in a shaky breath and gave Fang a look that said I was finished. It was enough to tell him for one night.

"Well, I guess you can sleep on the couch tonight. I'm going to bed. See ya tomorrow."

"Night, Max," Fang said. I turned around at my doorway to see him watching me. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. I'd deal with the weirdness in the morning. I closed the door behind me and jumped in bed. In that one night, I had been to a club, almost been kidnapped, been saved by someone I thought to be dead, had my roommate walk out on me, and had a gooey heartfelt conversation with the person I've been trying to get over for the past seven years. Part of me wondered how I used to deal with such craziness. Another part was curious about my feelings for Fang. But mostly, I just wanted to take a nice long nap in my bed and never wake up. If only life was fair.


	6. Nightmares

I was standing there, just watching as a slideshow of images passed through my head, going from one scene to the next. The first scene I stopped on was comfortable, cozy. It reminded me of home. It was my mom's house in Arizona. She was taking out a freshly baked batch of cookies. The smell was irresistible. Ella was sitting at the counter doing homework. She seemed younger, around the age of thirteen. Around the age I met her. They looked happy and content. That is, until Ella's head snapped up and shot me a glare that's meant to kill.

"Leave," she whispered. "You don't belong here. You're a freak. Unnatural. Get out. Now."

"What are you talking about?" I didn't show it, but her words seriously hurt me.

"You are what's wrong with this picture," she said, her voice steadily rising. "See what doesn't belong, Max? You. Without you and your damned mutant siblings, I would be sitting at this very counter, telling _my_ mom how college is. But no. I'm _dead_. And it's your fault Max. You left me alone and broken. I was far from stable, and you could see it, couldn't you? Couldn't you?" She was screeching at me by the end.

"Ella," I started, but there was no time to finish. She had gotten out of her chair and was very much in my face, screaming at me to leave, to get out of her life and stay out. My hands covered my ears and I shut my eyes tight. When I opened them, I was walking through The School.

There, I saw a room with the door wide open, and inside, an operating table. Curious, I stepped over the threshold, pulled back the sheet covering the figure on the table, and peeked at the small boyish face underneath it. Gazzy. I immediately freaked and pulled the rest of the sheet off, determined to get us out of that hell hole. I really wish I hadn't. When my eyes scanned the rest of the Gasman's body, I didn't see a stomach. I saw his entrails strung about him. I screamed and began to cover my mouth with my hands, only to find them covered in blood. I backed up into the corner of the room. There I sat and slowly rocked myself back and forth. I started to sob. I put my head down between my knees. The next time I looked up I saw an angel.

My Angel.

She was older, possibly fourteen or fifteen. Beautiful. Flowing blonde curls that most girls would die for. Blue eyes, clear as the sea, set in a deceptively cherubic face. We were in a field of wild flowers. Angel was dancing among them, singing softly to herself. She looked up as if she just noticed that I was there and gave me a sweet smile.

"Catch me," Angel said and then disappeared. Where'd she go?

"Over here, Max!"

I turned around and saw her running in circles and jumping in the air, trying to catch butterflies.

"Try harder," she said, and once again she vanished.

I spun around and looked in all directions. She wasn't anywhere to be found. Where could she be?

I jumped about ten feet in the air when she tapped my shoulder.

Angel stared into my eyes and spoke as if it were of the upmost importance that I hear it. "Look. If you try harder, you'll find a lot of things. Maybe even me." She grabbed hold of my hand and we were transported to a room with a giant screen. We watched that screen together as images popped up here and there. A sober Dylan looking all spiffy in a tux. Fang looking secretive. I saw a glint of something shining on him, but the image faded away before I could see what it was. Nudge, a wreath of flowers in her hair, whispering to me. "I love you. Forever. Even in death." She smiled and crossed her arms over her chest before it moved on to the next image. Gazzy again, this time fully intact. He was banging on the screen from the other side. He was trying desperately to get to Angel and me. "Seek and ye shall find!" He shouted. A little (okay, a lot) profound for Gasser, but whatever. Iggy cradling Alexa, fully able to see her small angelic face. Ella watched behind him, rubbed his shoulders and gave a big smile, not at all like the Ella from the previous scene.

The short movie ended and Angel stepped in front of me and grabbed my shoulders. "Open your eyes, Max. Open your eyes." Another voice overlapped hers and eventually overpowered it. "Open your eyes, Max," Fang coaxed. And I did.

I woke up form my strange dream in my room. Fang was cradling me like a small child. Apparently I had been crying hysterically throughout the nightmare and he came in and was trying to wake me up ever since.

"Thank God, you woke up. I was just about to get a bucket of water," Fang said with his usual half smile. I looked at him and remembered how I had felt uncertain when I saw the image of Fang in my dream. Something about him was very… peculiar. And it carried over from the dream into my reality.

"What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?" he asked questioningly.

"No, I dreamt of rainbows and happiness with unicorns prancing about. In fact, it was so beautiful I had to cry tears of joy in my sleep. Of course, I had a nightmare dipstick." Okay, so it wasn't the nicest of responses, but I was sensing that I couldn't trust him. Probably just my imagination. I'd forget about the feeling later. But at that moment, I didn't feel comfortable having him in my room, let alone holding me so close. I carefully took his arms off from around me. "You can go back to sleep now. You know, in the living room."

He gave me a look that had the slightest hint of hurt, said he'd see me in the morning, which I pointed out it already was morning, and then he closed the door behind him. I wiped the cold sweat off of my forehead and lay down. I didn't sleep the rest of the night.


End file.
